


I didn't mean it

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anger, Angst, Drunk Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Castiel, Gen, Guilt, Hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-08 00:15:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14682480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: They've only just got Cas back when Dean blurts out that Sam once referred to Cas as an 'it'.The revelation damages both Sam and Cas and forces Sam to confront his feelings over Cas saying yes to Lucifer and try to rescue his relationship with their angel.





	I didn't mean it

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> https://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/130933.html?thread=44755829#t44755829

Much as Dean could be an obnoxious drunk, Sam would rather he was drunk because he was celebrating and not grieving. Not using alcohol to try and numb a pain running so deep that Sam knew Dean was thinking of over ways to quell it.

And it was great to have Cas back, because Dean wasn’t the only who who’d been mourning their angel. Watching Cas die…. It hadn’t been the first time they’d lost him, but there was something so final that night, so permanent about it…

Sam was just realising that he hadn’t had time to actually start to process Cas’s loss (between caring for Jack, being a buffer between him and Dean, trying to find a way to get their mom home) before Cas was restored to them.

It still didn’t feel real, looking at Cas sitting opposite him, rolling his eyes fondly at Dean trying to translate thoughts into words.

But Sam hoped it was real, because neither of them could cope with losing Cas again.

“Told you….Cas, I told you….”. Dean was waving a hand in Cas’s general direction, so it was probable his brother was seeing two or more Castiels at that point. “We…. We have…. We can’t…. We don’t do so great when you’re not here.”

Cas looked away, guilt showing on his face, and Sam wished he could draw it out of Cas like the poison it was. Cas blamed himself for everything, his fault or no, a genuine mistake, a reasonable action gone wrong.

And that blame was often disproportionate to whatever Cas had done, or felt he’d done.

“Second time…. Second time that bastard’s taken you away,” Dean said. His voice was heavier, and Sam knew drunken tears were likely to follow. “Couldn’t get you back then, either. Wanted to try…. Wanted to get him out of you…”

“Dean,” Sam said. He gave Cas an apologetic look, even though he knew Cas understood, and came around the table to help his brother up. ‘We all need some sleep. Come on. Cas’ll be here in the morning.” 

_And probably have to heal your hangover_.

“But Sam,” Dean continued, as Sam got him on his feet. “Sam, he didn’t get it. He.. He wanted to leave you in there...leave him in you…. What did you say, Sam?”

Sam felt his stomach lurch. That seemed so long ago; he’d not forgotten the horror of having Lucifer loose, riding their best friend, and he hadn’t forgotten the anger he'd felt, which had for a while overridden his better judgement where Cas was concerned.

And he hadn’t forgotten what he’d said, either.

But now…. Now was not a good time for Cas to hear it.

“It’s a strong vessel, Dean. That was it, wasn’t it, Sammy? He’s not a vessel. He’s...he’s our family…. I'm going to be sick.”

Dean staggered out of the room, towards the bathroom, and that left Sam staring at Cas, and Cas staring back.

The angel’s expression was calm, but Sam had seen the flash of pain before Cas got his poker face on.

“Cas,” he said.

Cas stood up. “We’re all tired,” he said. “It’s been a difficult time for each of us. If it’s alright…. Can I have the use of a room?”

Sam cringed. Before…. Cas wouldn’t have asked. He would have just gone to the room he used, the one they all thought of as his. But now, apparently he felt like permission was required.

“Sure,” Sam said. “Good night, Cas.”

“Good night, Sam. I’ll check on Dean then turn in.”

Sam watched Cas go, trudging down the hall after his drunken idiot of a brother.

Great. Just fucking great. 

*-*

Jack was up before any of them the next morning, and Sam found him sitting with Cas in the library, talking quietly.

He stood watching them for a moment, wishing he’d found Cas there alone, but then Dean staggered into him and rebounded in the direction of the table.

He collapsed into a chair with a groan that made it sound like he’d been hit by a truck and then dragged his sorry ass to the side of the road to die.

Sam found it hard to have any sympathy. He doubted Dean even remembered the shit he’d started last night by running off his drunken mouth.

“Just…”. Dean turned two bloodshot eyes on Cas. “I know you’re just back, and this is self inflicted, but…. Can you please get rid of the fucking rhino in my head?”

Cas glanced meaningfully at Jack, but then leaned forward and pressed two fingers to Dean’s forehead.

Dean sagged with an over the top sigh of relief. “It’s good to have you back, man. What you two up to, anyway?”

“Finding out what Jack’s been up to while…”. Cas trailed off.

Now it was Dean’s turn to look guilty, but Sam figured Cas would let it go. He’d understand, because he’d been dead, and Jack was part of the reason he’d been dead, and Dean had broken in two.

But Sam…. All he could say was _Yeah, I said that_ , and then try to put into words why. When, looking back, he couldn’t actually believe he had said it, even though he could still hear his voice doing so.

“I’m going for a run,” he said, and hurried past the table, past the people sitting there, and up the stairs to the door.

He was pretty sure he heard Cas calling after him, and Dean making some inane comment and drawing Cas’s attention right back to him.

Sam ran until the trembling burn in this muscles draw all his focus, and then he ran some more.

*-*

When he finally dragged himself back, Cas was the only one sitting at the table.

“Hey,” Sam said. He grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge he’d set up near the stacks, and drained half of it. “Where’s Dean and Jack?”

“Dean made a _Star Wars_ reference,” Cas said. “Jack wanted to know more. Dean said we could join them if we wished.”

But Cas clearly hadn’t wished. Sam figured Dean probably hadn’t been happy that Cas had declined to sit through a Star Wars marathon with him, a decision Cas wouldn’t have taken lightly given that Dean was probably still getting over his death, and return, and likely hadn’t wanted to let Cas out of his sight.

Instead of letting Dean cling to him, Cas was here. Waiting on him coming back.

“Cas,” he said, but the angel cut him off.

“You don’t owe me an apology,” Cas said.

Sam stared at him. That was more blunt than he’d been expecting, and while part of him was relieved at Cas’s apparent understanding, part of him came growling up out of nowhere.

Because he didn’t owe Cas an apology. If anything, it was the other way around. He had sacrificed himself to an eternity of suffering to lock Lucifer away, and Cas was the one who'd let him back out. Without telling them, without asking what they thought, what _he_ thought, because Sam had at least earned that.

It should have been down to him whether or not Cas said yes.

And he didn’t even realise he’d said it until Cas spoke, sounding as pained as Sam had ever heard him.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I…. I suppose there isn’t much else I can say.”

And then, before Sam could say anything, Cas went up the stairs, and into the garage, and a few moments after that, Sam heard his truck pulling out before the engine noise faded away,

*-*

It took Sam a couple of minutes to process what had just happened.

At least when Dean had put his foot in it, he’d had an excuse. 

What was Sam’s? That he’d been holding a grudge since their battle royale in the cage, and picked now - mere hours after Cas had come home, alive, if still rocked by both his death and the fight to escape The Empty - to settle it?

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Lucifer, was the simple answer. Lucifer was what was wrong with him. Every time his existence touched their lives, Sam felt everything warp and change, watched time stretching out endlessly before him as he was broken and twisted and his very soul was shredded inside him.

Yet…. He was the one who’d wrongly interpreted the visions as pointing to Lucifer. Well, not wrongly….The visions had, he’d just never considered that their source was more depraved than divine, and blundered right into the trap laid out for him.

And that had dragged Dean and Cas into it as well, and it wasn’t the first time he’d lain awake realising that had likely been Lucifer’s plan all along.

To get someone to say yes. Him, Sam, preferably, but if not him…

Lucifer had played the three of them. Went from fall back position to fall back position.

Separating them, using the fight to break them down, letting him get his hands on Dean, which then let him get his hands on Cas, let him pin Cas away from them, so he could whisper his slick lies to Cas who was already so desperate to find a way to save them.

And hadn’t Sam been the one to so boldly tell the Devil that he’d never say yes. He'd watch his family suffer and die before he ever surrendered.

Sam still didn’t know if he’d meant it, but he clearly had, hadn’t he, because he’d watched Lucifer dangle Dean like a rag doll, throttling the life out of him, and it was Cas…

Cas who’d saved Dean, with his actions, and then his words.

Cas who'd felt he was worth less...and worthless.

Cas who’d once again used himself as a tactic, a playing piece on the board, to be risked, and lost if necessary.

He’d still let Lucifer out. But Sam had still gone down there. Just like Dean had taken on the Mark. And Sam had taken up with Ruby. And Cas had teamed up with Crowley to take the souls from Purgatory.

And Sam had caused Charlie to get killed and Cas to get cursed.

Not once had any of them checked with the others. If they had…

Some of their greatest fuck-ups would never have happened.

Dean’s coat was still hanging over the back of the chair he’d been sitting in, and the keys to the Impala were, as always, in the pocket.

Sam snatched them up and ran upstairs to the garage.

*-*

There was one road in and out of Lebanon. Beyond the town limits, it climbed gradually through hilly forest, and then levelled out until it was a pleasant enough route towards the next town along.

Once he left the outskirts, Sam put his foot down. Cas might have become attached to that truck - not as much as to the Continental - but it was a clunker. It could never outpace the Impala, especially on a straight road, and it was there Sam caught him up.

He honked and flashed his lights, and Cas indicated, and pulled in.

Sam came to a gliding halt behind him, and got out.

So did Cas, looking pale and alarmed.

“Is something wrong? With you, or Dean? Jack?”

Sam felt like he wanted to cry. Because that would be the only reason anyone would come after him. Because something was wrong with someone else, and they maybe needed Cas to fix it.

“You left,” he told Cas. “That’s what’s wrong.”

Cas looked away, and Sam could see him trying to pull his words together.

He looked back, face earnest. “Sam…”

“No.” Sam shut him down. “I don’t want to hear how it was all your fault. We…. We keep doing this, we don't talk to each other, because we know the other two will stop us, and we’re so sure that there’s no alternative.

“But what you did, Cas…. That was the alternative. It was the alternative to Dean dying, to me having to say yes.”

Because he knew now….another moment of hearing Dean trying to breathe, that awful strangled sound…. He would have said yes.

No matter what he’d told Lucifer about letting everyone he cared for die first, it was a different story to see it actually happening and know one word could prevent it.

“I was…. I was angry, though, and I was scared, and I…. I think I felt guilty, because I knew you were suffering, that you had been, and I could see how bad off Dean was. And how the fuck could I have forgotten how he could get past your defences? Fool you, lure you in. How the fuck could I forget that?”

Cas came to him, reaching up but Sam got there first and he pulled Cas into his arms, and held on to him.

He was alive. He was alive, and he was back, and he was Cas, not a vessel, not an it, not a tool. Not expendable or any of the other dark things he thought about himself, because Sam knew that he did.

“Sam,” Cas said. “It’s alright. We’ll alright.”

“I thought we’d lost you for good,” Sam said. “I couldn’t…. I couldn’t grieve, because there was Dean and Jack, and.. Cas, I’m sorry.”

Cas squeezed him tighter, his touch grounding Sam, confirming that he was there, real and with them. Hurt, yes, by what had happened and Sam’s words, but there.

“I’m sorry,” the angel said. “For every time I’ve caused you pain.”

Sam huffed against him. “I tell you what…. You forgive me, I’ll forgive you.”

“I think that could work.”

Cas’s phone chose then to ring, and the angel reluctantly stepped back to retrieve it from his pocket.

“Dean?” Sam asked.

Cas nodded, wincing. “I wish he wouldn’t pray _and_ phone. He wants us back at the bunker. Now.”

Of course he did. Sam knew Dean had some kind of sixth sense when it came to the Impala. He’d probably got a cold shudder when Sam drove off with her.

Hell, for all Sam knew he had that with Cas, and him, as well.

So he was probably worried, and pissed at being left to babysit Jack.

But since his drunkenness had kind of caused things (though maybe it had led them to address things long overdue), Sam figured a little payback was in order.

“We should get back, I guess.”

He got behind Cas and nudged the angel towards the Impala. 

“Sam,” Cas protested. “He won’t even let me _wash_ her.”

“Yeah, well he can wash her himself. Anyway, she’s my car too. And I kind of want to see his face.”

Cas looked like he’d rather have faced down an army of demons than get behind the wheel, but he surrendered with a sigh, and maintained a more restrained pace on the drive back home than the Impala was probably used to.

Sam followed in Cas’s truck, not sure what would offend Dean more: that he hadn’t okayed Cas’s shot behind the wheel, or that Cas kept to the speed limit.

Either way, Sam hadn’t needled Dean in what seemed like forever, and today…. Well, today was as good a day for it as any.


End file.
